Last Words
by Natalie Williams
Summary: FarscapeDiscworld crossover, in which John Crichton lives his last moments.


DISCLAIMER: I don't own Farscape. It belongs to other people. I don't own Discworld, either, though I would happily live in a Watch book.   
  
*****  
  
He was stranded. It wasn't the first time he'd been floating in space with no one in sight, but somehow John knew that this time, no one was going to find him.   
  
HELLO.   
  
He startled, seeing the skeleton in the black robe floating next to him. He had to be hallucinating. He hoped he was hallucinating.   
  
"Good lord, tell me you're not who I think you are."   
  
SORRY.   
  
"Hey, I guess it's not your fault. Look, this can't be it. There's got to be something."   
  
Death pulled out an hourglass, peered into it, and put it away. I SUPPOSE YOU COULD STILL TRY.   
  
"I guess... I guess you just have to take it when it comes. After all this time of running away from a bony guy in black. Can I call you Dadoo?"   
  
WHAT?  "Sorry. I had to."   
  
Silence.   
  
"Am I dead yet?"   
  
NO. NOT YET.   
  
"So you have to wait here till I'm dead?"   
  
I DIDN'T THINK IT WOULD TAKE THIS LONG. DYING IN SPACE TENDS TO BE TRICKY. IT TAKES A WHILE.   
  
"Kind of an annoying way to die."   
  
EVERYONE HAS TO GO ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.   
  
"Yeah, but I didn't want it to be something *annoying*. I was expecting to live to an old age and die in bed. Or at least go out in some huge gunfight."   
  
Death shrugged.   
  
IS THERE ANYTHING YOU CAN DO TO... MAYBE HURRY THIS UP?   
  
"What? Sorry I'm putting a crimp in your schedule."   
  
NO, IT'S NOT THAT. IT'S JUST... THIS IS A BIT SLOW.   
  
"Hey, they're my minutes. I'm keeping what I can."   
  
UNDERSTOOD. I'M NOT TRYING TO PRESSURE YOU OR ANYTHING.   
  
"What do you expect me to do, hold my breath till I turn blue? Hey, you're the one waiting for me to flatline here. You could probably be off collecting souls of sea anemones or something. How about some people who deserve to die?"   
  
IT ISN'T A CASE OF DESERVING. IT JUST HAPPENS TO EVERYONE WHEN THEIR TIME COMES.   
  
"It just figures, you know. Things are finally going my way for once, and what happens? Things go to hell, and I'm left. Again. Do you know how many times this has happened to me?"   
  
NO.   
  
"And this time no one finds me in the nick of time. I gotta tell you, this sucks. So you see a lot of this, huh?"   
  
I CAN SAFELY SAY THAT IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT.   
  
"Tell me people die in worse ways than this."  OH, THEY DO. I COULD TELL YOU STORIES. THOUGH THAT COULD GET DEPRESSING.   
  
"Worse than me dying?"   
  
SOME WOULD DEFINITELY FALL INTO THAT CATEGORY.   
  
"Yeah, I guess. Don't have much air left."   
  
IT SHOULDN'T BE MUCH LONGER.   
  
"Good? I kind of feel like I should be going out singing something at the top of my lungs."   
  
IT'S YOUR DEATH, YOU CAN DO WHAT YOU LIKE.   
  
"I can't think of anything appropriate. Amazing. Time like this comes, you think you're going to have something heroic to say, and Death's the only person that's going to hear it. If I can call you a person. What are you called, anyway?"   
  
AN ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION.   
  
"Wow, that's a mouthful. Huh. You learn something new every day. You know, Death, you're really not too bad. I like you better than the other bony guy in black."   
  
YOU DO?   
  
"You sound surprised."  I DON'T HEAR THAT OFTEN.   
  
"Well, I guess not. I mean, you're going to kill me, but-"   
  
I DO NOT KILL. A SIGNIFICANT LACK OF OXYGEN IS GOING TO KILL YOU. I'M JUST HERE TO USHER YOU INTO THE AFTERLIFE. I'D APPRECIATE IT IF YOU KEPT THOSE TWO CONCEPTS SEPARATE.   
  
"I'll be sure to do so from now on. So what's in store?"   
  
WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE WILL HAPPEN?   
  
"I always thought it'd be the typical heaven. Fluffy white clouds, pearly gates, lots of harps. Of course, I could be headed someplace else. I'd rather get the choir of angels."   
  
I DON'T SEE WHY YOU COULDN'T.   
  
"If only you knew..."   
  
OH, I DO.   
  
John puzzled over that comment for exactly a second before he heard the air filter click off. It was followed by a tightening of his throat-   
  
"Is this it?" he asked after a minute.   
  
CONGRATULATIONS. YOU ARE NOW DECEASED.   
  
"I can do without the congratulations, thanks."   
  
ARE YOU READY?  "Is anyone?"   
  
SOMETIMES. YOU'D BE SURPRISED.   
  
"I usually am. Okay. Let's go." 


End file.
